The Massacre at Bothawui
by Korotanik
Summary: The first work I've ever put out for public consumption. I wrote this to discover why Mon Mothma stated "Many Bothans died to bring us this information". It is told from the perspective of an Imperial Center Denizen as he discovers exactly how far the Rebellion is willing to go. Any feedback is welcome. I hope you enjoy my silly little fantasy.


**The Massacre at Bothawui**

 **By Andrew "Korotanik" Seiner**

Prelate Balgreir looked out through the transparasteel observation screen of the Rebel Carrier's command and control center, gazing out onto the small blue, green pearl of Bothawui far in the distance. There lies his only hope for salvation from the wrath of the Empire.

" _It's been a long month…"_ he thought to himself. Over the past few weeks, the pursuit of him, from one side of known space to the other, had grown into a frenzied pace. The likes of which haven't been seen since the 3-year manhunt for Skywalker. Fortunately for Balgreir, Lord Vader was still picking up what was left of his credibility within the Imperial court after wasting hundreds of billions of credits trying to find and capture the young rebel. The fact that Vader still wielded power at all baffled Balgreir. All that he had done to earn the dozen Star Destroyers currently driving him through hyperspace was stashing a few thousand credits down the throats of some lower denizens of Imperial Center to keep them quiet. _"I even did it for the Empire!"_ he thought to himself. _"Just because I didn't ask permission shouldn't have meant a tribunal."_

Being the kind of man he was, he chose to discount the multi-million credit sums he had hidden away for himself. But the Empire didn't know anything about that. Of course, he knew that a tribunal would uncover his minor scam. And without any other options, Balgreir fled to his homeworld of Thyferra, where he made contact with the Rebel Alliance Bacta procurers. Balgreir knew that Thyferra would be the first place the Empire looked. But he also knew he could find the Rebels faster than the Empire could send word. And he knew that the Rebels would gladly protect him in exchange for the information he held. Being as close to Emperor for as long he had been, he was granted some very lucrative information from time to time. Thus he knew who was under investigation for loyalty breaches, the precise location of the numerous engineering projects, and the Emperor's personal appointment schedule…

Balgreir grinned at the darkness of space and Bothawui. _"And how eager the Rebels were…"_ The intelligence officer that had debriefed him on Thyferra had nearly lost his stomach when he realized the gravity of Balgreir's situation. Within minutes, Prelate Balgreir was onboard a barely flight-worthy U-Wing, screaming for hyperspace with all haste.

Balgreir was distracted from his thoughts momentarily as he scratched at the collar of his Rebel Alliance jumpsuit. _"Oh, how I crave for my robes! These blasted rags…"_ The Prelate had been more than mildly admonished by the U-Wing pilot for trying to go back for his forgotten things in the Rebel hideout. And Balgreir still hadn't quite forgiven the pilot for it either. But then again, the Prelate hadn't forgiven many people… _"Ah, well, Windrider was a good pilot at least."_.

He said "was a good pilot" because Hodgins Windrider had been physically disabled sometime in the last few weeks of fighting. Not killed, but relegated to basic repair work if Balgreir remembered correctly. Windrider had flown with great skill during their escape from Thyferra. Anyone that out-flew a TIE Interceptor squadron in a transport deserved some praise; even from Prelate Balgreir. After they managed to make it to hyperspace, Windrider informed Balgreir that they would be rendezvousing with the Carrier _Defiance_ and her flotilla.

At first, the idea of an entire Rebel fleet guarding him gave Balgreir reason to feel safe again… That was, until he saw the reality of what a Rebel fleet actually was: A pair of Nebulon-B frigates, a smattering of Corellian Gunboats, a (very small) swarm of support craft, and a positively ancient _Endurance-_ class star carrier from the Clone Wars. Even with his relatively small amount of knowledge when it came to warfare, Balgreir knew that one Star Destroyer might find this "fleet" a nuisance, but only a nuisance.

It was only a few hours after arriving aboard the _Defiance_ when the first attack came. Two Star Destroyers flickered into existence and promptly demolished the protective screen of gunboats at the edge of the flotilla. Reducing the fleet to only three serviceable gunboats out of the nineteen they had started the battle with. The Rebels managed to get themselves and more importantly, _him_ , to hyperspace eventually. But they were attacked again at their destination by the same two Star Destroyers plus four more.

To their credit, the Rebels learned. This battle lasted much longer than the first, mostly because the Star Destroyers decided it would be a good idea to concentrate fire on the _Defiance_ , which could take the most punishment. Unfortunately, another reason that fight lasted so long was due to the _Defiance's_ Hyperdrive Navicomputer taking hits from more than a few Turbolaser salvos. Causing the time in between jumps to take fifteen minutes instead of the customary one or two. _"That was also when Windrider lost his leg. Which is why he can't lead his wing of fighters anymore."_ The Prelate thought. Proud that he had managed to remember. Windrider was like most Rebels, obnoxiously romantic about freedom. But he was the closest thing the Prelate had to an ally onboard, and being able to remember basic things about people made them admire you more… Or, at least, hate you less.

After they jumped away from that fight, the Rebels were low on fuel and other supplies, due to the loss of, well, every ship other than the _Defiance_. And they had to keep jumping every few hours to avoid more fights they shouldn't be able to survive. Turns out that since the first battle, there was a minor (but, predictably, unrepairable without a dry-dock) fuel leak that the Imperials were chasing to find the _Defiance_. It took the Empire a few hours, but that's all they needed. On top of that, the only ships left on the _Defiance_ were single-man Starfighters and shuttles without Hyperdrives; the U-Wing being destroyed while docked with one of the support vessels for repairs in the second battle. Thus the mad dash across the galaxy for the past few weeks as the engineers tried to find a miracle solution to an impossible problem. Admiral Cradius finally relented to take him to a friendly system where the Prelate could be dropped off in a sub-light shuttle, taken in system, and given over to a different Rebel group. The Prelate would like to think that his pestering had done the trick, but Cradius' sudden change of heart probably had more to do with the _Defiance's_ fuel situation. Why the Admiral didn't call in reinforcements or was worried about civilian populations was beyond Balgreir. Something about a major defeat in the Woth system a few months back, crackdown by Imperial fleets on "any planet with suspected rebel ties" and communication blackouts or some such nonsense.

So here he was, gazing down on the distant blue and green marble of Bothawui, preparing to head down to the shuttle and then the surface when the scanner alarms began to wail.

"Proth! What's out there?" Balgreir heard the Admiral bark.

The scanner technician stumbled for a moment "Uh… half the Imperial Navy it looks like…"

"Proth!"

The Twi'lek's red skin became darker and then, a moment later, lightened considerably "…Thirty-four Star Destroyers with supporting vessels!"

"Karabast…" The Admiral muttered as he lowered his head. "They couldn't have tracked us this quickly. They must have found out about the Bothans' ties to the Rebellion." Admiral Cradius raised his eyes to the scanner technician.

"I'm correct in assuming that they are in orbit of Bothawui?"

"Yes Admiral." The still rather pale Twi'lek responded.

"They're transmitting to the surface Admiral" one of the comm technicians said. A Devaronian.

"Typical Imperial dribble about lowering the shields around their cities and submitting for planetary inspection."

"Sir! Eight of the enemy ships are breaking off from the main group and headed our way!" the scanner technician nearly screamed. "Three Star Destroyers and five smaller ships!"

"Time to intercept?"

"Thirteen minutes and… forty-eight seconds" said another scanner technician mournfully.

"We can't maneuver with sub-light either." One of the carrier's pilots added. "If we want to be calculating a jump to lightspeed anyways. The Navicomputer can't handle those kind of dynamic calculations right now!"

"Start the calculations Ensign." The Admiral responded gravely.

"Sir! We're receiving a message from the surface of Bothawui. And is in the clear! No encoding or anything." One of the comm technicians said in bewilderment.

A quizzical look flashed across the Admiral's usually stoic face "Put in through."

A long-faced Bothan in diplomatic dress appeared on the command center's holoprojector "You said that the Empire was at least six hours away!" The Bothan said with a distinctly self-righteous tone. "Are you just going to leave us here with Prelate Balgreir? How do you expect us to get him off planet?"

The Admiral started to respond when the message began to repeat.

"What are they doing?" someone said. "Don't they know what the Empire will do to the planet?"

The Admiral let out a long, slow breath "They're buying us time, Lieutenant..."

A scanner technician shouted "Two of the Star Destroyers and the small ships are turning back towards Bothawui!"

"We still can't hold off a single Star Destroyer, even for two minutes. Not with the our power cells being as depleted as they are." Admiral Cradius stated matter-of-factly. "Suggestions?"

Finding a reason to chime in, Prelate Balgreir leaned towards the pilot "Why can't we use the astromech droids from your Starfighters to get the jump calculations? I've seen fighters jump on ranging missions"

The Admiral didn't even respond. The pilot didn't look up from his control console. His fingers moving with a practiced and panicked speed. But he did respond, "I'm sure others have told you already. We had to replace the Navicomputer and Hyperdrive a few months back. And you think the rest of the ship is old? They aren't compatible with any of our R5s."

The Prelate began to lose control of his panic. "Then what are we supposed to do?" He said in a pitch higher than he wanted.

"You can stay right where you are." He heard a female voice say. When he turned to address the speaker, he saw a tall, slender woman wearing an orange flightsuit with matching orange hair. " _We_ will do the thinking and fighting." The red haired woman added, with the tone of someone engaged in conversation with a Hutt. She then turned to Admiral and said "I take it that we used up all of our drones confirming that we were still being followed?"

It took Cradius a few seconds to respond "…Yes. Drones are not an option for slowing down the Star Destroyer."

The fighter pilot, Bran Mothma, that was her name the Prelate remembered, Pressed her lips together in a tight, humorless grin. "Well then, I guess that makes it up to the fighters."

Admiral Cradius did not return the grin. "We've lost too many of you already. We only have thirty-three assorted fighters left after all of the fighting. You and your people will not survive this."

Bran leaned onto a control console "But you and the other 1,800 people aboard will. So will he." She nodded in the direction of Prelate Balgreir. "And so will Hodge…"

" _That's right… her and Windrider are married…"_ Balgreir thought absently behind his panicked thoughts.

Admiral Cradius glared at the deck of the command center. Then raised his gaze to Mothma. "Very well, we will cover you as far as our guns will reach."

"Thank you." Bran said as she moved toward the intercom terminal to make the announcement. Even Balgreir knew that the fighting will take place far outside of the range of the _Defiance'_ s guns…

"Attention." Bran Mothma said into the intercom receiver. "Fighter crews to their ships. There's a Star Destroyer in pursuit of the _Defiance_ , we need to slow it down in order to allow _Defiance'_ s escape. This is a volunteer mission only." She hung up the receiver and moved for the turbolift…

Admiral Cradius glanced to a scanner technician and the head pilot. "How much longer until Star Destroyer intercept and jump readiness?"

"Ten minutes and six seconds until intercept." Said the scanner tech.

"Twelve Minutes and twenty-two seconds until jump sir." Said the pilot.

Cradius only reset his jaw.

The next seven and a half minutes went by faster that the Prelate would have thought. But it seemed like it was only a few moments before he was watching the cam feed within the fighters and the hanger bays, watching the stoic faces of warriors going to their deaths and prepping for their final flight. The first ship ready to leave was a X-Wing in the starboard hangar. Balgreir cycled to that X-Wing's in-cockpit cam and saw that it was Bran behind the stick, waiting for the rest of her fighters to be launch ready. As Balgreir split the display to show both the hanger cam and Bran's. He saw a one-legged figure rushing as fast as possible towards Bran's fighter. The cams had no sound, but Balgreir knew that Windrider was screaming towards his wife by the distorted expressions on his face. When Windrider was a mere fifteen meters from the X-Wing, and Bran had been given the green light by the deck master. She raised her ship off of its landing gear and on to its repuslors. The force knocked Windrider onto his back. Three deck crew members rushed up behind him to help him to his feet, then held him back as he struggled to free himself and get Bran's attention. But watching the cockpit cam, and seeing the look of turmoil and concentration on her face, Balgreir knew that she was aware of him…

Just before Bran Mothma rocketed into space, Balgreir saw her turn her head towards her husband and smile. Not a smile of reassurance, or happiness, but a smile filled with unsaid words, and memories that will never come to be. Balgreir could see that Windrider was screaming now. Before, he was screaming words. Now they had transformed into the primal wails of anguish. The wails of a warrior left behind and a lover already lost. As Bran's fighter launched into the blackness, Balgreir saw Windrider collapse to the deck plating. His body racked with the spasms of sorrow. Balgreir couldn't watch anymore of it. He raised his head towards the viewport.

Balgreir thought he would find sanctuary from the unfamiliar pain now carving through his gut by gazing into the pristine serenity of space. But he only found more suffering. Bothawui was ablaze. There were small pockets of green, tinted with blue shielding, but anything outside of the cities were being mercilessly "disciplined" by the Star Destroyers in orbit. Their bows pointed towards the planet like daggers in order to maximize their fire efficiency. Whole mountain ranges were being reduced to slang and the oceans were boiling. Even if the majority of Bothans lived in the cities, many would die of starvation and thirst. And there was no way out for the rest. A whole planet of beings burning because he chose to run…

"Admiral! The fighters are moving into formation!"

This exclamation from one of the command crew pulled Balgreir's attention to the, now much larger, Star Destroyer. Making its best speed to "discipline" them as well. And then he saw the small cloud of Starfighters blasting beyond the prow of the _Defiance_. A pitiful assortment of X-Wings, Y-Wings, and A-Wings. The leading craft being a lone X-Wing, about half a kilometer ahead of the rest. Balgreir glanced at a tactical readout, noting that every single one of the thirty-three remaining fighters had launched themselves into the maw of death, despite the volunteer-only order. He also looked at the name attached to the lead X-Wing; Mothma. As the fighters began to close, a scanner technician said "Sir! The Destroyer is slowing!".

No one cheered.

"They have to deal with the fighters or risk losing their engines to flanking attacks." Admiral Cradius said, more for the Prelate's benefit than anything. "And they can't get a good bead on something as small as a Starfighter without slowing because they only have large Turbolaser batteries."

The fighters were coming within range of the Destroyer's guns now. Brilliant green lances of energy stabbed toward the fragile cloud of beings within machines. But even as the fighters were being blasted into dust by the Destroyer's terrible firepower, Balgreir saw a bright blue trail burst to life from the back of Bran Mothma's X-Wing. He looked at the Admiral with a quizzical look. But the Cradius was fixated on the fighters, and was clearly disinterested in explaining anything further. Balgreir moved to a console where he could see a magnified view of the final charge, and he saw the nature of the strange, blue shimmering.

It was a holoprojection. About twice as long and twice as tall as the X-Wing. A parade flight banner by the looks of it. Coming from a holo-emitter mounted to the back of the craft. It was a simple design. Programmed to look like a cloth flag waving in the wind, a simple rectangular border with the outline of the Rebel Alliance Firebird crest in the middle. Balgreir glanced to the tactical readout, and saw as more of the little green dots representing the fighters winked out of existence. Beings burned away to molecules in an instant. But somehow, Bran kept going.

As she reached the tip of the Destroyer's bow, her engines glowed brighter, propelling her even faster. She rolled around turrets and weaved her way through the storm of Turbolaser blasts. Unleashing the full complement of her Proton Torpedoes and draining her blasters' power cells toward the Destroyer's bridge all the way. She was alone now. All of the other pilots had either crashed into the behemoth or been incinerated by its terrible fire. The tactical readout showed the Destroyer's bridge as unshielded. Worn away by her constant barrage of torpedoes and blaster fire. But she couldn't have gotten through the thick transparasteel that guarded the bridge with lasers alone, and she was out of torpedoes. Balgreir realized what she was doing just as she buried her ship and herself into the command superstructure with a brilliant flash of orange flame.

Then the stars outside of the _Defiance_ elongated into lines. And wrapped the carrier within the salvation known as Hyperspace. The Admiral, his voice projecting his shaken soul, said:

"Onward... to Sullest."


End file.
